


Night Peril

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Series: Stonehenge: The Supernatural Bar in Beacon Hills [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Anniversary, Barebacking, Boys Kissing, Breeding, Come Marking, Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Deepthroating, Delayed Ejaculation, Dom Peter Hale, Edging, Face-Fucking, Feeding Food, Fisting, Fluff and Smut, Funny Misunderstanding, Gay Bar, Good Peter Hale, Handcuffs, Kissing, Knotting, Late Night Conversations, Light Bondage, M/M, Mates Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Peter Gives Stiles His Knot, Peter has a gorgeous apartment, Peter is Back in Town, Porn with some plot, Praise Kink, Protective Peter Hale, References to Knotting, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Scent Marking, Scenting, Scents & Smells, Shameless Smut, Slow Build to Sex but then it takes off running, Smut, Some Background, Some Fluff, Some Humor, Some Plot, Spanking, Spit As Lube, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Stiles is An Adult, Teasing, Walk Into A Bar, Werewolves, Window Sex, romantic dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:55:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24249907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: Peter watched the human squirm - a fair amount of hidden amusement trapped behind his fake scowl. Intense cornflower eyes refused to snake his gaze away. Motionless, he betrayed nothing about his true feeling of delight.“You’re staring at me, Stiles.”Peter kept up the ruse of being annoyed for just a little while longer. It would make the conquest all the sweeter._It's a rainy night but despite the inclement weather, Stiles continues his evening after being ditched by Scott and Danny.Peter Hale has returned to Beacon after a few years of living in San Francisco and unwittingly gets pulled into helping Stiles by pretending to be his boyfriend. Stiles later shows the wolfa lot ofgratitude.
Relationships: Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, steter
Series: Stonehenge: The Supernatural Bar in Beacon Hills [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719493
Comments: 27
Kudos: 537





	1. Glass and Skin

**Author's Note:**

> It starts pretty wholesome and then I don't know what happened. Ha! It wasn't supposed to even have the *slight* dom side to Peter but the story wrote itself that way so enjoy! I'm gonna go have a cigarette lmao. jk but seriously though at the end Peter is super sweet to Stiles.  
> *Kink note: There are praise and scent kinks heavily present in the story as well as spanking, all properly tagged, but there is no Daddy kink related to the praise because I personally find the whole daddy thing cringey and refuse to write it.  
> Every story in the Stonehenge series is meant to be unique unto itself so they can be read in any order depending on the pairings you like. So far, Stiles has been the protagonist in each.

Stonehenge. The place isn’t exactly a dive bar, but it’s not one where they’ll decorate your drink with fancy umbrellas or willingly offer you a cocktail napkin, either. "Wipe that shit on your jeans and stop your bitching" is kind of their motto.  
So imagine a dumpster fire that occasionally gets cleaned, but where you can get a couple drinks, listen to music. Meet people with whom you can chat, or simply get a blowjob in the bathroom. Everyone is welcome and anything goes.

_

Stonehenge seemed like the only reasonable place in town still open and still serving. Rain had started drizzling from the gloomy night sky way before Stiles had even crossed the lot, one hand trying to keep his hair dry as he took the walk towards the door with a brisk pace.

The night so far had been extremely disappointing. Getting wet in some sudden downpour was not on his list of things to make it any better.

To top it all off, there was definitely someone behind him. It felt leery and he hated it. The nightclub he’d been at before had felt _off_. He’d only gone to accompany Scott and Danny earlier that night, who had promptly ditched him after hooking up with some dudes from a neighboring town.  
Danny had been raving about it, but to Stiles it seemed like a seedy place filled with hungry eyes that never stopped staring… undressing you with raking glances.  
No one even attempted to make decent conversation. It was a warehouse full of walking thirst traps. (Definitely not the sort of place Stiles would meet someone he’d want to get to know better, but he figured it was okay for his horny friends).

So, Stiles had ended up on his own yet again, still looking out for some company for the night. The good kind.  
But the eyes had followed him out from the club, and as he made it to the doorstep of his favorite supernatural watering hole, they carried on staring once he got out of the Uber.  
Unbelievable, the douchebag had followed him here with his two friends in tow and was getting out just a little further down the block! Did they think he was stupid _and_ blind?

Inside he went. The newly installed bell jingled as he pushed through. Most of the bars in the city had bouncers lazily checking for ID at the front on Saturday nights, but not Stonehenge. They prided themselves on the safety of their patrons, and the two hybrids resembling knockoff Wolverine twins kept a sharp eye about.  
“Hey Stiles…” one of them mentioned as he handed him back the ID. “Have a good evening.”

Being a regular gave him that extra sense of security now that he was inside. One word to the bouncers and these guys would get thrown out. But before making a scene Stiles wanted to see if he could work this out in an easier, and perhaps more entertaining way?  
  
The place wasn’t too packed as it was already close to closing, but the itch that kept him searching for some help made his honey eyes scan across the scattered people in the bar. Most were men of varying ages and species – a group of twenty-something werewolves playing pool at one end, a couple of vampires in a corner. Then a smattering of others dotted around watching a television. Something with music videos on the wall had their attention.

There was only one guy sitting at the bar itself, but he definitely wasn’t hard to miss. Muscled arms leaned on the countertop, a pint of red beer nestled in an enormous palm.  
  
He wore a blue t-shirt, sleeves cut low so Stiles could get an excellent look at the broad ropy muscles.  
The guy had an air of familiarity to him, but from the back like this and in the semi-darkness, Stiles couldn’t be sure who it was. The baseball cap covering his face didn’t help, either. He looked like yet another hot brunette. 

Hearing the bell from behind him, Stiles knew the guys had followed him in and it sent him into a panic. Stiles made a snap decision and quickly took up the empty barstool next to the man, nearly falling over as he climbed it.  
The man barely looked over to his right as Stiles shifted in the seat, still keeping his own gaze forward.  
  
Stiles did catch the little raise of eyebrows he gave, though, making him guess he wasn’t expecting to see someone like him materialize. The man didn’t properly turn to him, so for the moment he still didn’t get a full view of his face- also because Stiles was focused on the mirror in front of him. Spying on what was happening at the entrance from between the reflection of liquor bottles, his head grew fuzzy with worry.

“To what do I owe the honour?” Peter said with a deep voice, commanding yet tinged with a playful sarcasm. He assumed Stiles had recognized him, but when a second later it was obvious he didn't, Peter smirked to himself and pulled down his cap over his brow.  
It had been a boring evening and he was ready to see what all this was about. 

Stiles might have recognized him immediately if there hadn’t been the music and the chatter and the tendril of fear wrapping itself around him.   
“Just do one thing for me,” said Stiles firmly, still looking straight ahead at the guy now studying them from afar. 

“Fire away,” Peter replied.

Stiles didn’t even think twice, reaching over and lacing his arm around his, silently enjoying the feeling of the strength in his arm. The man didn’t even flinch, just casually kept staring ahead. The tip of his tongue played with the rim a second before swallowing a sip from his beer.

The person who came in had to be the same guy that had followed him from the club, Stiles was sure of it, because as soon as they noticed him arm in arm with the seeming Men’s Health model, they turned around and went back outside.  
Or so the loud expletives and ringing bell signaled a second later.   
  
An awkward quiet stretched out between them.

“You know, I won’t stop you but if I could at least get an expla-“ Peter started.  
He wasn’t minding this unexpected contact with Stiles, though. Not at all. 

“Just pretend we’re together,” said Stiles with some urgency. He hadn’t even realised that he’d started laying his head on Peter’s shoulder, but carried on regardless. Something in this guy's scent made his nose twitch. He’d smelled this cologne before. As he was about to bend his head to check, entranced by the second hand ticking away on the silver Rolex on the man’s wrist, that goddamn bell tinkled again.

Stiles spun around. This time what seemed more than one set of feet stepped inside. It was them!  
Once again, Stiles’ body reacted before his brain could think of a reasonable course of action to take.  
  
Pivoting back, the man's face honestly still just a blur- he grabbed hold of Peter’s nape and pulled him towards his face, sending the baseball cap flying to the counter.   
Their lips mashed as he forcefully made out with him, and they kept at it until Peter noticed through a squint that the creepy guys took their exit.  
The original stalker’s backup clearly decided against the idea of pursuing him any further, elbowing their friend to leave. 

Hesitant to tell him they’d gone, (Peter was enjoying this kiss way too much), he waited for Stiles to figure it out and found his fingers raking through Stiles' soft thatch of hair.  
When he finally realized they’d gone, Stiles slowly released the man, wiping his lips with satisfaction at eluding his followers. Shit, this guy was an amazing kisser! 

“Sorry about that, I just had to-“  
  
Stiles froze in his seat when their gaze met. It was as if he’d seen a ghost.  
  
He took his first proper (calm) look at the man’s face. Not only was it one he recognised, but it was one he knew very, very well. (Maybe a little too much, because immediately the realisation sent a wave of heat and shivers through his body).  
On the edge of shock he realised that this wasn’t some weird dream and right in front of him sat his long time crush, Peter Hale.  
  
“Holy shit, you're kidding me right?” he stuttered out. “No fucking way.”  
  
Hadn’t Peter moved to San Francisco five years ago?!

“Funny way of saying hello, Stiles,” said Peter casually. “Making out with me then swearing at me. Is this what you normally do to get a guy to kiss you? Because all you had to do was ask.”

Stiles’ earthy eyes were wide with barely concealed excitement, and subconsciously he ran a hand through his mop of damp hair hoping to neaten up.  
Squaring his shoulders, he sat up straight in his seat.  
  
 _I just fucking kissed Peter Hale,_ his brain screamed at him. _I just fucking kissed Peter Hale who is like ten times hotter than the last time I saw him, which was already smoldering hot.  
_  
If only he’d been paying attention earlier! Stiles tried his level best to collect himself, but it was no secret that his heart was beating fast in his chest and a blush was shading his cheeks.  
The werewolf could hear it perfectly, even over all the noise... the sound of attraction. 

“I mean yeah…no of course not I-“ Stiles tugged on his ear. 

Peter watched the human squirm - a fair amount of hidden amusement trapped behind his fake scowl. Intense cornflower eyes refused to snake his gaze away. Motionless, he betrayed nothing about his true feeling of delight.  
“You’re staring at me, Stiles.”   
Peter kept up the ruse of being annoyed for just a little while longer. It would make the conquest all the sweeter.   
  
Stiles was flooded with exultation- he’d had a one in a million encounter with his crush, made a fool of himself and now Peter probably thought he was some kind of weirdo.  
Sure, Peter was known for having a brooding personality, but he almost looked _angry_ with him.  
“I’m sorry. I just thought you’d moved away like 5 years ago. When I came back from the FBI, both you and Derek were gone.”  
  
Shit, Stiles thought. He was never going to live this one down, and some part of his brain was saying to just get up and run. But before he had a chance to make a hasty move, Peter burst into an uncharacteristic giggle. Those enchanting eyes crinkled at their edges and something glimmered there that wasn't only amusement.   
Stiles almost laughed himself, just at how unfitting the giggles were for such a big bad Alpha.

“Oh Stiles, you really never cease to amaze. You’re a special one all right.”  
Peter was wagging his unkempt head, looking even more like a snack now that he was smiling.  
“Just kiss a guy out of nowhere, didn’t even stop to check who it was. Gonna remember this one,” he said, banging a fist on the bar top. “Cherry, be a darling and get Stiles a drink,’ he called out.

_Maybe this wasn’t going so badly after all.  
__

Before long, Stiles found himself a few beers down, chatting with the one and only Peter Hale like he’d known him (and above all liked him) his entire life.  
They might have had their differences in the past, but he was finding so much more about him to love. Beneath the guise of a muscular business man, there were many elements that would evoke emotions in people. Depending on your opinion of Peter, those sentiments could be good or bad.  
For Stiles, they were definitely good.  
The guy actually had an enormous heart, one that was alive with warmth and a friendly, honest way of speaking.  
If Stiles was cooked before, he found himself falling for his many charms now more than he wanted to admit. And whenever Peter did fall quiet and that hard shell started to rebuild itself, nothing would stop Stiles from trying to find the cracks again and get him laughing.

After explaining why he’d move back, and why Derek had chosen to sell him his part of the business and moved to London, they circled back to the situation that had gotten them here in the first place.  
“So those guys bursting in like they own the place, they were looking for you?”  
Peter asked.  
He was several pints in, but his demeanour hadn’t changed in the slightest. Wolves madly held their liquor.  
Stiles was feeling the effects, but he knew he wasn’t near drunk yet. He was at that level of relaxation that nearly brought forth his confidence.   
(And he didn’t want to be intoxicated, either. Because if something were to happen tonight, he definitely wanted to remember it).  
  
Peter inched over the more the night progressed, and Stiles noticed. It was looking like something might just happen.

“Think so. At least one of them came from the club I’d been in with Scott and Danny. I swear he was stalking me in there, too,” he explained, taking the last gulp from his glass. “Creeper.”

“Some men don’t have tact,” Peter muttered. “Is that their way of getting you in bed? Just following you around, waiting for you to spin on your heels and fall into their arms?” he said with a lilting laugh.  
God, the way Peter said “bed” made Stiles’ sex stir. He wasn’t going to make Peter work for this at all, he decided. Stiles wanted him and the arousal sparking in the wolf’s frost eyes spoke to it being mutual.

“Well, seems like all you need to do is exist and I’d end up kissing you,” Stiles joked.  
Now it was his turn.  
Peter shot his gaze over immediately, a quick smile and a tilt of his head showing that he was thinking the same thing.  
There it was, a playful glint, one that Stiles was waiting to find more out about. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, slicking it back a little more. Why did he feel so disheveled all of a sudden?

Peter leaned forward, and for the first time since their reunion, Stiles caught a good sniff of the enticing smell he wore. It was maybe aftershave but after taking a few more deep breaths, Stiles concluded it was part cologne and part his own damn smell that Stiles had burned to memory so long ago.  
It was inebriating. A rich smell, fresh and bold, that made him all the more attractive and above all, manly.  
  
Stiles wondered if he had an odor? Was Peter smelling him, too? 

“Just existing, eh? Is that all I have to do?” His eyes never left Stiles' plump mouth.

Tumbling into the low tones of his voice, Stiles barely registered that he’d shifted as far as he had. In the beat where his mind connected the dots, he found himself kissing his once enemy again, but this time he knew that it was him.  
It started with just a hesitant press of their lips, but as he went to accept him for a second time, he opened his mouth wider and felt his tongue brush against his own. Several seconds passed of duelling muscles and the odd smack of their slick lips together.  
  
Stiles cupped his chiselled jaw before locking his arms around his neck.  
  
“I should thank that creep for following me…” he breathed.  
Nodding against him, Peter nipped at his lower lip. “Yeah, Stiles. You really should. I might find out who he is and send him flowers.”

The kissing grew more fierce once they stopped chuckling. A meeting that came with a level of masculinity in Peter’s approach- getting increasingly more urgent.   
Stiles drifted into the feel of his surprisingly tender lips, a pleasurable tingle running up his side as he felt Peter's thumb on his cheek and his hand warm on his jaw.   
  
Peter dared pull his soon-to-be-lover almost in his lap.   
  
Through the choppy darkness, Stiles noticed that Peter’d closed his eyes and was perhaps more into this than he had initially suspected, a thought that was confirmed when he felt his OTHER warm palm map his thigh, daring to hike up his dark pants and glide along his inner leg.

“I like your jeans,” Peter whispered in his ear, still managing to keep that powerful tone in just a breathy mutter. “But I’d prefer to see you out of them.”  
  
 _Oh holy God!_ His heart lurched into his throat and probably two inches shot into his dick.   
With five digits poised on Stiles’ thigh and the other gliding along his forearm, Stiles took a moment to process exactly what he’d heard.  
Wait, what?  
Holy shit. Peter Hale wanted to sleep with him!   
  
Stiles had fallen deep into his gravity and only now remembered where they were. Stonehenge.   
Nothing the place wasn't used to- people fucked all the time in the storage room or the bathrooms. Sometimes in the alley out back, which was just giving Jane Austen's romantic ideals a kick in the nads.   
The problem was Stiles didn't want to fuck him here, and the place was 14 minutes to closing. He did NOT want his first time with Peter to be a quick tug in the stall. 

“Peter…” he said, looking at where his fingers were…dangerously close to the growing bulge.. feeling a familiar tightness build.

Picking up on the hesitation, Peter nodded in understanding.   
"Yes Stiles?"  
“I’m wondering if it isn’t time to call it a night.”  
  
Peter’s tone had taken a sensual edge. Like hot steel. It sent more shivers to rack their way through Stiles’ body and a heat pooled into his core.  
He knew how to make a guy blush, there was no doubt about that.  
Stiles was trying VERY hard to keep the smile on his face from looking goofy. He was good at appearing sober even when he was a few drinks in, but with all that was going on, he was finding it a genuine struggle to keep his composure.

Stiles’ breath hiked and he stiffened up slightly as Peter’s hand slipped from his thigh and glided into the apex of his thighs, lightly grazing over his clothed cock.  
A bold move to do at the bar, but with their backs turned and the poor illumination Peter was certain no one was the wiser.  
“Oh fucking hell,” Stiles panted.  
Leaning into him, Peter lay a line of kisses down his neck. "I think we should..." 

“Peter…I,” he mewled out, Stiles’ pulse pounding between his ears as he continued to work at pecking his thirsty skin.  
There was more than just a blush gracing his cheeks with a deep mauve.  
Peter had lit a blaze inside him. Everything was burning, speeding into overdrive, sending him wild with the feel of him, the smell of male musk on his skin and all the accompanying sensations he was causing.  
“Should we be doing this here?” Stiles managed, dragging them back to reality yet again. At hearing his concern, Peter looked up, casting a glance around at the rest of the bar like he, too, had just come back into the room.

When the bartender came over to tell them that last call would be soon, Stiles felt crestfallen. His night had barely begun. How could it end so soon? He looked at the time on his phone, realising that, as much as he wanted to deny it, it probably was the end to this evening. He still had a shift in the morning at the station, like it or not. Peter or not.   
Stiles' chest deflated and he regarded Peter with wilted excitement.

“It’s probably time I left,” he said, not even trying to hide his defeat.

Peter threw back the last of his drink, fit his cap back on, and casually wiped his mouth. “No fucking way,” he said flatly.

“What?” Stiles said, a smile daring to crease his face. He had been praying to all the deities he could think of for this to be happening!

“Look,” Peter said, pointing out the nearest window. “It’s raining. I’m not letting you go home in that.”

Stiles flashed a mischievous grin at him. “So if I don’t Uber home, how do you suggest I make it back?” he asked, already hoping for the answer he wanted so desperately to hear.  
  
Peter pulled out his keys from his pants pocket and spun them on his finger like a promise wheel. The glint to his expression said only one thing…  
“You don’t. Not tonight, anyway. My Escalade’s parked outside. Wanna see my new place?”  
  
_

From the second Stiles stepped into Peter’s apartment building, he was in awe. While Stiles was by no means a guy who wanted for anything, he was still taken aback by the opulence the werewolf’s family money afforded.  
A uniformed concierge, a private elevator shaft, a keyless, fingerprint-enabled lock on the door – just the _journey_ to Peter’s house was a masterclass in luxury.

As the massive doors slid open, Stiles was blown away. The apartment was _gorgeous_. Nothing like the lair-like dim loft he and Derek had shared once.  
Sitting prettily on the 15th floor of one of the newest buildings in Beacon, it overlooked the night skyline.  
  
“Follow me,” Peter said, helping Stiles out of his jacket, before bringing him down a lengthy corridor. How many bedrooms did this place have?  
Stiles stopped counting at 4.

Glass partitions clicked open with the wave of a hand, and the inside of the master bedroom came to full display.   
_It was pristine_.  
White walls, white sheets, chic, jet-black, minimalist glossy furniture, and a floor to ceiling beautiful, panoramic wall-window to top it all off.

Stiles was stunned at how well put-together everything was – this set-up belonged in a decorating magazine!

“This is, a, uhm… an immense bed for one person to sleep in,” Stiles smiled, coyly, before sitting down on its edge and running his fingers over the silky sheets underneath. It was twice a King. Did he have this custom made?! Where do you find sheets for this?

Peter smiled. “Who said anything about me sleeping alone?”  
  
Jesus!  
Stiles swallowed hard. Did he mean in general, or _with him_??? Because the thought of Peter entertaining what had to be hundreds of lovers somehow upset him.   
His veins gushed with sudden jealousy. 

Without a word, Peter reached over his shoulders and pulled his perfectly eye-shade matching t-shirt off his body in one, smooth motion. His muscles bunched and flexed and Stiles' jaw dropped.  
  
“Actually,” he grinned when he saw Stiles’ dark eyebrows shoot up, “who said anything about sleeping, period?”  
Beneath it, his body was _just_ like Stiles had remembered it– rugged, and sculpted to perfection – an absolute treat to Stiles’ thirsty eyes.

Peter sauntered over, and without warning pushed him onto the bed, his shadow making Stiles scooch back. His sinewy strength was sending jolts through him.   
Peter climbed him, covering his mouth fully with velvet strokes of his tongue.  
  
Fuuuuck...   
Stiles felt the sear of his wolf body drape his and reached out to draw him closer. As his curled digits roamed his strapping back, he felt Peter’s tongue dip past his lips again and again.  
He was so _hungry_ for him, and Christ was it turning him on immensely.

“You’re so beautiful, Stiles,” he hummed. "I always thought so, but now... you've grown into this incredible man. So hot... "

That part of him that had long since left teenage crushes behind somehow found a brief opening.  
Peter thinks I'm hot! he told himself, almost incredulous.  
  
Parting his lips with a breathy sigh, Stiles invited Peter’s ravenous, thirsty kisses, and wrestled his muscle with his. With his shirt off, Peter’s unadulterated wolf scent filled Stiles’ senses – a dark, musky tone, strong, but not biting – everything that Stiles loved about how men smelled. About how Peter smelled.   
Inhaling, Stiles let his sensual, natural aroma overwhelm his senses - a giddy spiral of ecstasy.

As the two exchanged sloppy, passionate kisses, Stiles felt the firm grip of Peter’s right hand slide up from his hips, under his shirt and claw against his chest. Before he knew what was happening, they broke. Just enough for Stiles to find himself bare-chested as well.   
He kicked his shoes off because he had a feeling about what was coming next.   
  
A low growl and Peter’s fiery mouth slowly made its way down from Stiles’ face, nibbling down his artery, and then down to one of his nipples.  
He hissed in pleasure at the contact, and Stiles thought he would spend more time there, but his sights were on something else. It was where he'd teased all night.   
  
Peter's roving tongue dropped down his belly, past the hollow of his button, and reached inside his protruding mound.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night.”  
Undoing the button on the front, he gripped Stile's jeans by its waist and pulled it off his legs, catching his socks with them as they peeled off and were thrown behind him onto the floor.

Stiles lay in nothing but dark red boxers, his cock leaking so much there was a moist circle of pre come staining the top left corner.  
Peter admired him... almost in awe of what he'd become. He smiled wickedly at what he had to work with.  
  
Stiles was big. Thick. It made Peter moisten the gap of his lips in anticipation as the flimsy cotton left NOTHING to the imagination.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Stiles,” Peter muttered.

“ _Mmh_ , say that again,” Stiles asked, slowly spreading his legs, inviting Peter between them. His courage finally surfaced. 

Stiles never wanted a man more. If Peter changed his mind now and told him to leave, he’d have to bust outside the building- THAT’S how badly he needed release.  
Peter's groin tightened- his handsome face, now strained by lust, brushed up against his strong thighs, kissing them, wetting his leg hair with long sweeps as he inched his way toward Stiles' aching crotch.

“I need these off.”  
No one had ever removed his underwear faster. As soon as Stiles was naked, he dove right back in. As he licked around his erection, making sure to get his balls glistening wet, Peter’s cropped beard tickled the soft skin on Stiles’ cock, teasing him.

Stiles was ready to surrender, the back of his hand on his forehead as he melted into a boneless mess.   
  
“You’re driving me insane with your scent,” Peter growled, sending shivers of erotic bliss down to prickle Stiles’ mole-speckled flesh. His nose rubbed into Stiles’ manicured pubes, leaving his own scent there too. Claiming him. Claiming his cock. 

“Oh fuck, Peter,” Stiles groaned, delirious with need.

At that moment, Peter buried his face in it, swallowing Stiles' cock, dragging his tongue against the length of his shaft and up to the warm, wet slit.  
Stiles gasped in pleasure, his right hand instinctively twisted into Peter’s thick mane, his fingers burrowing into his short, brown hair.  
The other ruined the perfectly ironed sheets by gathering them in his fist.

“You taste amazing, Stiles." As his tongue explored his dripping crown, lapping up the briny pre, Peter pushed both his thighs open firmly. Stiles watched, impressed, as his muscular arms held his trembling legs apart, giving him full, unobstructed access to his sex.

“Oh Stiles…”

“I-I… I want to suck your cock,” Stiles moaned, “P-Ple- _mmmh_ … _please_ Peter.”

Peter heard it. It registered. But he continued to lick, suck, search all over his lover’s perfect veiny stiffness, until the suggestion didn’t slowly delve into his mind’s movie. Eyes smoldering, hair tousled, Peter came up for air.   
Stiles felt Peter’s firm release relax, and next came the jingle of his belt buckle coming undone. Stiles' breath went ragged. Pulling off Stiles’ cock with a pop, Peter wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, grinning.  
  
“What was that you wanted to do again, Stiles?” He was sitting up on his knees, his underwear and jeans gliding to the floor right after with a little shake. A hand snaking back suggested Peter had removed his socks and was getting down off the bed.  
“Come here, Stiles,” he gestured with a crooked index finger as he threw a pillow at his feet.   
  
Fuck!   
That was the moment Stiles caught his first look at Peter’s cock. Thick, meaty, long – it was a quintessentially brutish, a masculine Alpha cock, and he could not _wait_ to get his lips around it.  
Fully erect, a thin trail of pre-cum dangled tantalizingly from its dusky pink head, practically begging for Stiles to catch it on his tongue.  
  
“Once more? I don’t think I heard you. What is it you want to do?” Peter tugged, the foreskin collecting the drops and then spreading them. Collecting and spreading.   
  
“I want to suck your cock,” Stiles stuttered. “I… I need it.”  
Reaching, he placed a hand behind Stiles’ head and brought him to an upright position.  
“Then be good for me,” Peter said, in his iconic, raspy, sexy whisper, “And get down on your knees."  
  
The hooded gaze... the tangle of desire making him forget his own name. Stiles dropped in worship, face to face with Peter's thickness.  
  
"Open your pretty little lips for me, darling. Be a good boy now."  
  
 _God._ Did Peter have a praise kink?! Because Stiles most certainly did, and even if he hadn't he'd make one come to him! How on earth was he going to keep himself from exploding in a minute?!

Studying the older man the entire time, he let his mouth fall open slowly, his tongue running against his bruised lips, glistening them over for Peter's viewing pleasure.  
It made Peter whimper.   
Grasping his chin between two fingers, Peter pushed his hips towards the gap and introduced his cock into his mouth one beautiful inch at a time.  
“Open wide for me, sweetheart."

More than half disappeared into his now bulging mouth, and Peter gasped, head tipped to the side to see him better in profile. “That warm mouth of yours…”

Gripping the base of Peter’s girth, Stiles slowly savored its taste, running his tongue along its veiny, pulsing underside. The scruffy but kempt hair surrounding his cock gave off the same deep, musky aroma that he did, and Stiles was eager to impale himself against it just so that he could bury his nose in it, and soak up his warm, manly odor.

“Just like that, love,” Peter whispered, his voice growing softer... thoroughly enjoying his tongue’s ministrations with tiny bucks of encouragement to make Stiles understand he was doing SO well.  
  
“ _Exactly_ like th- _mmh_ … exactly like that,” he groaned again, gripping the back of Stiles’ head for a deeper angle. “So good, sweetheart.”

As Stiles took all of his cock and inserted it past the curve of his esophagus, Peter’s hand guided his thrusts. When his lips finally rested against the hilt, Stiles breathed in through his nose, soaking in the strong masculine smell.  
  
"Gah...glug..." he gurgled on it, but didn't gag or pull off. Stiles' eyes were watery and he was reveling in the power he had- Peter literally blubbering something incoherent as he sped up his stabs.

 _Bliss,_ Peter thought as shuddering pleasure rocked him. 

“Oh fuck Stiles,” Peter smiled as he face-fucked him into ruin. “So good at taking it all and not gagging… such a dutiful mouth..." 

His wolf pheromones were having a significant effect on him, and Stiles felt a rush of excitement shoot through his limbs as he slowly massaged his cock between his lips, his nose nudging against his pubic bone each time he took him back deep.

Indulging in his scent, Stiles closed his eyes and soaked in the sensual, erotic moment – a powerful man towering over him, caressing him as he serviced his thick, juicy cock.

“You’re doing perfectly, baby,” Peter whispered, grunting each time his tongue flitted against the base and then the slit. “You’re so good - _mmh_ ,” he mewled, his hands bracketing Stiles’ head.   
Peter was dangerously close, but he hadn’t even begun to enjoy Stiles.  
  
"Think you can swallow for me?" Peter barely managed. His climax blasted through him. Stiles would have never protested but Peter wouldn't have extracted himself in time regardless. The hot spasms sent the come right down his throat, there was so much of it Stiles was barely able to keep up, but he got it.  
All of it.  
Every single drop.   
  
The slick sound of him sliding off... Peter grabbing Stiles and pulling him in for a come-flavored kiss as his red eyes blazed in primitive need... Stiles was still coughing a bit, his mouth swollen from use. His throat burned but it was worth it. Fuck if it was worth it!   
  
“C’mere,” Peter offered his arms.  
Stiles was centered, rivulets of spit running down his chin and chest, and for a moment they just held one another. But the sex was hanging in the air, and the hunger inside Peter wasn't sated.  
He spun Stiles around, and pressed his gorgeous glistening body up against his from behind, whispering in his ear.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Stiles?” he suggested, his heated, throbbing cock already hard once more, nestled between Stile’s cheeks, as he ambled them towards the large, panoramic window that ran from one edge of the sizeable room to the other.

From such a height, even Beacon at night was _breathtaking_.  
“Y-yes,” Stiles breathed, his lust-blown eyes dancing over the beautiful, flickering skyline- but not really _seeing_ it. The room was spinning. 

One at a time, Peter pressed each of Stiles' hands onto the window, and then pulled his hips towards him. After nudging his legs open, he stood to the side and gripped his crotch in his hand, his index and middle finger roughly fondling his hole.  
Stiles sensed a shift in the mood – his earlier gentle, teasing approach was now inching toward something even more dominant and firm.  
  
“Do you want me to take you, Stiles?” he asked again, his hand running over the perfect roundness of his ass, squeezing each of his cheeks firmly.  
  
Who was he joking?! Stiles turned his head to face him, his bottom lip bitten poppy red, a wrecked expression painted on his face as he nodded. “I _need_ you to fuck me, Peter.”

Landing a soft smack against his ass, Peter watched – delightedly – as his cheeks bounced from his spank and Stiles’ sienna eyes lit up.

“How hard? 'Fuck you right into this glass' hard?” he asked again. “Will you be good? Will you take it?”

This time, Peter didn’t wait for an answer. He sent another, slightly harder smack against his right cheek, eliciting a small moan from his lover and the sharp sound echoing through the sparsely decorated room. 

HOW HOT WAS THIS?! Stiles was screaming in his head.   
“ _Mmh_ , yes,” Stiles begged, groaning gently, immensely aroused by Peter’s more domineering side. His cock was throbbing- it's brand leaving a smudge mark of pre on the perfectly polished dormer.

“I’m not convinced yet, Stiles.” Peter did it again, landing a stinging yet sensual strike across Stiles’ left buttock- a loud, pleasured squeal escaping him. He was going to be his death!   
  
The window sullied with Stiles’ pre-come the more he rubbed his scorching body into the cool pane. It spiked Peter's most wildest desires. 

“For the love of God please fuck me, Peter. Please.” His thighs trembled in anticipation, voice raw from arousal and gritty from the face-fucking.

Peter shot Stiles a cheeky smile. “You sound so sexy… all needy and scratchy from my cock banging your throat raw…”  
  
Reaching behind him, he was about to rummage in the nightstand’s drawer for a condom and lube- when Stiles interrupted him.

“No, Peter,” he asserted, now HIS eyes dimming with something darker. "Spit. Raw. I want that wolf cock inside me… _break me_.”

To say Peter was pleasantly surprised was an understatement. To say the animal in him reacted by grunting like a beast- accurate.  
“You… are a surprise,” he chuckled, dragging the words out as he shut the drawer once more.  
  
Stepping up to shadow him, the seeping tip prodded against his opening as he gripped his hips, drawing them close. Stiles felt Peter’s sweaty form flatten to his. As Peter kissed the back of his neck, his hand reached over and grabbed Stiles’ pulsing erection. “So perfect.”  
  
He could barely believe how turned on he was; Stiles was dripping onto the shiny white flooring in long thin strings!   
  
Peter leaned in and spat onto the head of his impressive cock, getting himself lubricated for what was to come. The fingers between his legs dipped and cupped Stiles’ cock head before shifting to rub some of his dripping fluids across his asshole.  
He purred as he felt that ache between his legs building unbearably. Reading his thrumming heart, the shiver prickling his arm hair- Peter scissored three curled fingers inside him.   
"Stop torturing me, Peter. _Please._.."  
Reluctantly releasing his slick sex, Stiles splayed a hand on the glass. “Ready?” Stiles asked him.

“Never said no to that question before and I don’t see why I’d start now,” Peter hummed, voice soft and rasping, his accentuated words sending the longing through Stiles’ entire body.

Stiles arched his rear into the air with a sultry smirk over his shoulder. He watched Peter’s sharp gaze fix on his ass, saw the voracity there as Peter started stroking himself again, making sure his cock was as slippery as it would need to be and as marble hard as it could get. Seeing such a beautiful sight before him, it wasn’t difficult.  
  
Bending his back to highlight the curves and angles of his toned body, Stiles observed every twitch on Peter's face as his digits flowed across the pale, supple skin of his ass cheeks, spreading them, the left one still slightly pink with his hand print.  
Peter caressed their way around and down.

“Almost ready, baby?” Stiles said with a coy smile. “Need a little help?”

“I think we’re doing just fine,” Peter exhaled with a teasing smirk, lightly spanking his ass one last time for good measure. “Going to be a good boy for me now?”  
  
Oh Jesus Christ! “Yes, Peter… I’ll be good,” Stiles stammered. "I'll be _very very good_."   
  
Okay if that almost didn’t make him come. Peter swiped his tongue across his hand and rubbed. With a healthy helping of spit plopping between Stiles’ cheeks… Stiles eased his hips back and gasped when he felt the firm tip penetrate against the tight, puckered ring.  
“Oh shit.”  
Biting his lip, he braced himself, the muscles across both legs beginning to shake with pent up arousal. Instinct made his body clench as he pushed past his opening with a kiss, the cinch pulling back Peter’s foreskin the deeper it went.  
  
“Jesus, Stiles…” Stiles let out a chest deflating sigh as his rock hard cock invaded his cavity and brushed past his gland.  
“God!”  
Anchored inside, Peter’s hands returned to his sides, gripping and massaging his flesh roughly as he forced his thick girth slowly to the balls.  
“Peter, please move!” Stiles pleaded, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

His muscles stung and ached as he stretched them wide around it, sinking deeper and deeper into his body, more than he’d ever imagined possible.  
Their heaving torsos finally cleaved, but not before it felt like his meaty cock had buried itself in his gut.  
Stiles felt _every inch of it_.

Gripping him tight, Peter drew back until only the crown remained inside, before plunging himself back in. “Stiles. Christ.”  
The pace was slow at first, but it didn’t take Peter long to fall into a quick, hard rhythm that rocked them against the glass with every lunge.  
Peter’s thrusts were consistently relentless. Every time he thought he was about to lose his rhythm or steam, he claimed Stiles with renewed vigor. Stiles’ right cheek was pressed up against the window, and his warm, ragged breaths and laments were fogging up the glass next to his face.  
  
“Fuck Stiles, you’re so hot, so tight,” Peter whispered in Stiles’ ear as he tunneled into him, his hands reaching up to brace them against the glass.

“Just stand like that for a bit. I promise I’ll take care of you.”  
Sitles couldn’t take it anymore. Each time his length slid into his waiting body, Stiles grunted in time to each hit.  
“F-fuck m- _mmh_ , _yes_ … p-pl- _mmh_ , fuck m-me harder,” Stiles moaned, his body shuddering as Peter thumped in and out, his balls smacking against his ass.

His frenzied panting and Peter railing him from behind... it wasn’t long before Stiles felt that warmth boiling over.  
“Harder, Stiles?” Peter held him with one arm jerking his cock and the other crossed over his chest.  
“ _Mmh…_ mmhm,” Stiles whined, barely able to respond, his words turning to pleasured moans every time he attempted to speak.   
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Peter’s fist worked Stiles, giving the length firm squeezes, tugging just below the head, as he rammed into him in upward motions, relying on his thighs for power.

“I’m getting close, Stiles. Where do you want me to cum?” Peter asked, his voice a tickle in Stiles’ ear.  
“Where’d- _mmh_ … where do you think?” Stiles breathed, bearing down on him, inching his feet open as far as they’d go. If he thought he was pulling out now Peter had another thing coming.  
“I want to feel you come inside me. Feel your hot come mark me _. Breed me, Peter_.”

A brief look of surprise flashed across Peter’s face, but he was too caught in the palpable lust and fury of the moment to give his rationality any room to fester. He was _hungry_ , and he _wanted_ … _needed t_ o unload his wolf seed into Stiles’ warmth.  
Stake his claim.

The sounds of their skin slapping filled the room. Peter’s cock throbbing inside him, his own also engorged and on the edge of an explosion... it was maddening. Peter competed with Stiles over the grunting and moaning, (who knows what the neighbors would say!) and Stiles knew he was seconds away from… 

“I’m, I'm... fucking… cumming!” Peter screamed, the fingers of his free hand interlocking white-knuckled with Stiles’ against the glass as he released. 

Wave after wave of his viscous, hot seed splashed deep inside. “Oh fuck fuck Stiles!”  
There was so much of it, Stiles felt it dribble out around it, dripping down his quaking inner thighs.

He half expected him to pull his cock out, but instead Peter called back to something ancestral. Stiles hadn't asked for the knot yet so he wasn't going to invade him like that without his consent.   
But he could do the next best thing: Peter just slid it deeper, gently working his come in and out, the sperm and Stiles’ slick both frothy as they squelched back and forth, milking his orgasm for everything it was worth, making Stiles his with scent and sex and fang. 

One hand drew the damp hair back from Stiles’ face so he could plant a gentle kiss on his rosy cheek. “So good, so good, Stiles…”  
“Jesus, Peter!”  
Stiles’ ass gripped and strangled Peter’s cock, drawing every last ounce of his come, leaving it to pool inside.  
  
Peter’s potent orgasm also sent Stiles past his point of resistance. A long piercing moan brought with it much awaited relief.  
Milking the jizz from Stiles’ cock, its sticky necklace ran obscenely down the glass… translucent beads towards the end when there wasn’t a drop more Stiles could give.  
“Oh my god, I think I almost passed out.”

“That was… amazing,” the pair said, in unintended unison, eliciting a hearty laugh from one another.  
“Was I good, Peter?”  
Pressing their foreheads together, Peter kissed the top of Stiles’ shoulder. “You were so good, baby. So good.”  
  
A feeling of comfortable, sensual satisfaction washed over them, sealing a night of raw, sexual energy in a way that Stiles could not have been happier with. Nuzzling into him sweetly, turning him around so he could kiss and embrace him, Peter lowered him gently onto the crisp sheets.   
  
“I’m afraid you’re going to call in sick tomorrow, sweetheart. I haven’t even begun to have my way with you yet.”


	2. Leather, Steel and a Knot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fated events that brought them together, Peter and Stiles just fall into being a couple. Their first night together was something that definitely proved memorable, so after a few weeks of being together, one evening Peter decides it's time to explore their kinks a bit further (with Stiles' consent).  
> He's already given his young love so much- the keys to his house, two drawers, and a closet. Now it's time to offer him the most precious gifts of all: his heart... and his knot. If Stiles will have them, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy to do one more chapter for this story, as I got a request from a loyal reader for something a little more "bondage-y" and she also wanted Peter and Stiles to mate.  
> So there's a warning for that and knotting- in case that's not your cup o' tea.  
> 

A month had passed since Peter and Stiles had hooked up, and Stiles often mused how being with Peter Hale was akin to living in a sort of paradox. Stiles hadn’t imagined Peter to be so sweet or devoted. In all fairness, he’d expected a one-night stand and a thank you note on an empty pillow. Instead, something had definitely clicked between them and the sentiment that was developing could have best been compared to a lit match starting a forest fire.  
Peter was comfort and also fitfulness. He was timeworn and yet youthful. Little made sense to Stiles since he'd run into Peter again, but the one thing he felt burn through him was the fact that he couldn't have been happier.   
  
It was as if they were addicted to one another right from the start. Stiles _had_ called in sick that following morning (prompting a series of phone calls from his concerned Sheriff father that went directly to voicemail). It would have been impossible for Stiles to answer anyway: his mouth was otherwise beautifully occupied with kissing and pleasuring Peter.  
And yet before he knew it, instead of going to his house after his shifts, Stiles always found himself back at Peter’s condo. It was at his host's behest, (he'd never just ingratiate himself into his life like that). But the whole thing felt natural and _right.  
_Things progressed steadily until a week ago when a monumental change happened. Peter had texted him a simple “Stiles, just let yourself in.” Having loaded his fingerprints into the system earlier, Stiles was shocked when he was admitted inside with a nod from the doorman and an index finger traced into the elevator panel.  
(The surprises didn’t end there… when he’d gone to drop his bag in the bedroom, Stiles had found two drawers ajar, emptied, and a good portion of the wolf’s walk-in closet cleared).  
_Make yourself at home, Stiles. :)_ That was the note he’d discovered on the alabaster kitchen counter, leaving Stiles to smile to himself like a giddy fool until Peter returned.  
  
This is what life with Peter was like; Stiles was never prepared for what the Alpha’s deep pocketbook and overstimulated imagination would come up with next. Whether it was a weekend away skiing (well, that was the excuse to barricade themselves in a chalet for two days) or a private plane taking them to Catalina… it was always an adventure.  
The same applied in the bedroom. The sex was unpredictable and often edgy. Stiles never knew when Peter would decide he wanted to toy with him again.  
  
It would take so little to get Stiles needy. Sometimes he admonished himself for being so weak, but he couldn’t help it- he wanted him. Anywhere, anytime. Peter Hale was his drug.  
Peter would glance at him silently, pinning him with that burning gaze that in the bright light shaded from blue to opal.  
That was it. It made Stiles weak in the knees every time. In a matter of seconds, Peter could have him right where he wanted him (and do to him as he desired, teasing him into oblivion and reveling in the lust-filled desperation that he coaxed out of him).  
Four weeks seemed so short and yet so long, and in that amount of time Peter had Stiles figured out. He took every opportunity possible to explore how to turn Stiles into a whimpering mess.

⧫⧫⧫⧫⧫

Stiles was so worked up he barely focused on the movie playing in front of him. It might have had something to with the way Peter’s searing palm was resting on the bulge on the front of his boxers.  
His breathing was hiccuping in his throat and although he was facing the TV, his eyes were glazed over and his mind was elsewhere. Peter rubbed against his erection, making a small circle with the fleshy part, and Stiles dug his fingers into the armrest of the couch.  
His position was compromising and hungry desire ripped through him. (Peter fared no better. He was putting on a brave face but erotic thoughts bombarded his mind, his groin already tight).  
  
This maddening teasing had been going on for an eternity. The movie was only halfway through when Stiles checked the time by glancing down at Peter’s Rolex. His lover chuckled as Stiles squirmed, picking up the remote and dropping it. He was waiting to hear "Okay... torture's over. Let's go to the bedroom."  
The feigned ignorance earned Peter a desperate look that went unanswered. If he kept this up, Stiles knew there was no way he’d be able to make it through the entire flick. He was already bursting at the seams and it wouldn’t be long before he wouldn’t be able to control his… physiological reactions.

There had been a few times when Peter had overestimated Stiles’ control, mostly in the first two weeks of the relationship, and he'd made Stiles come in his pants. Peter was far too experienced now to let that happen.  
Stiles whimpered and tried to push his hips up towards Peter’s arched palm, but he pulled away, giving him an amused grin. “What do you think you’re doing?”  
At that, Stiles deflated.   
It was entertaining and incredibly hot, seeing him so desperate for his touch. The frustration was clear in every tense line in his body and the lambent rosy glow to his cheeks. Stiles' gaze flitted to Peter once more, pleading cresting in his auburn eyes.

Peter simply waited for him to relax before reaching back over, sliding his hands past the waistband this time.  
  
Christ! Stiles bucked. He moaned, the sound rumbling in his chest as Peter’s fist engulfed his cock. He was so overworked that even the slightest movement would send him over the edge. He gripped the armrest again until his knuckles were gray.  
He fell into apnea not knowing how else to stave the urge.  
  
The hand didn’t move, nor did it shift in pressure. It stilled, wrapped around Stiles’ raging erection, Peter enjoying the way it twitched against his fingers. The warmth that radiated from Stiles was surging electric on his flesh. Peter tilted his head and made no secret of keeping his eyes on Stiles’ face. He observed every fleeting altered expression as Stiles struggled to hold himself back.  
“Peter, please…” he begged.  
Neither was paying any attention to the movie. The sexual charge surrounded them and their surroundings faded into the background like a hazy daze.  
  
“Sit still.” Peter decided to give him _something,_ so he ran his thumb over Stiles’ cock head, observing the way he leaned into his feather touch.  
"Ugh!"  
“Shh…” Peter commanded.  
What was he doing to him?! Stiles sucked up his lower lip to keep quiet, cursing the man in his mind for having this hold over him. The hand squeezed and Stiles quaked at the sensation. He could tell that he was on the cusp of coming, but this was only the beginning of what he’d planned for the night.  
Peter withdrew his hand and waited for Stiles to calm himself.

Stiles grumbled at the lack of sensation but didn’t complain, (Peter had never left him unsatisfied before, and teasing him for this long usually meant he had something special in store).  
A moment later Peter extracted a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and jingled them in front of Stiles’ face. It reminded him of how he’d seen the same gesture a month earlier, when Peter had twirled his car keys like that- with the same promise glittering in his sky eyes.  
  
"Did you take those from my bag again?" Stiles huffed.   
Peter raised his dark eyebrow in both answer and question, to which Stiles replied with an eye roll... and a hard swallow. His brow creased as Peter grabbed Stiles’ wrists, snapping them into the cuffs with a clang.   
“Come on, sweetheart.” Pulling Stiles to his feet, Peter led him to their bedroom. Handcuffs weren’t a novel experience for them, Peter used them often, but there was something about the mischievous glint in his eye that made Stiles shiver in anticipation.

There was no need for words as Peter threw him onto the bed and tossed his boxers aside. Stiles' sex bounced proud against their stomachs as their lips meshed with urgency, a quiver pulsing in his veins at the contact. He tilted Stiles’ head back, grazing his bottom lip with his fangs.  
"Want you." Peter trailed further down, planting light kisses along his jaw and nipping at the soft flesh of his clavicle.

“Peter…” Stiles writhed beneath him. He groaned and lifted his pelvis, begging for more friction. Grinding his stiff cock against him, Stiles understood that Peter wasn’t unaffected. How could he not be?!  
“Patience, Stiles…” Peter breathed. The growing hardness rubbed against Stiles' bare cock through the thin fabric of Peter's underwear. Stiles gasped at the sudden pain from Peter biting into his earlobe, this time not as gently. He balanced the pleasure and pain he gave with ease, overwhelming Stiles with intense sensations, only to give comforting kisses a moment later.

“Peter, baby, I’m not gonna last.”  
  
Stiles’ needy laments rang in the air as his hips thrust upwards to meet Peter’s, who silenced him by exploring Stiles’ mouth with his tongue and crushing their lips together. Peter dragged the heel of his hand down Stiles’ cock, unfurling the foreskin, grinning against his mouth at the satisfying stiffness.  
“Ready for more?”  
It sounded more like an order than a question. Stiles was clenching and unclenching the clawed hands immobile within the cuffs, desperate to touch Peter.  
"Yes!" Stiles cried out, pleading with him in a hoarse whine for release when his lover stroked his cock twice.  
  
Peter asked him again if he was sure he was _really_ ready and Stiles agreed with an eager nod and a pained “God yes! I already told you!”  
Even though he had no idea what Peter meant by it all, if it ended in him getting to come he would do it. Whatever it was. Stiles wasn’t sure how much more he could take, and the torment had never gone this long before.

While Peter waited for Stiles’ uneven breaths to slow, he got up, pulling a few leather restraints out of the bedside drawer. Stiles waited patiently on the bed. Peter held them up in question for Stiles to see. “Do you mind? You're a little squirmy today."   
  
It wasn’t difficult for Peter to get him in the position he wanted, they’d gained a lot of experience tying Stiles up over their time together. He enjoyed it, the control, and Stiles was always an eager participant (the sex he’d had with other guys couldn’t even compare to what Peter made him feel… he trusted him completely to give him maximum pleasure).  
  
With a couple simple movements, Peter had turned Stiles over, the muscles ridging his spine rippling. He didn’t speak, only observed as Peter wrapped the ligatures around his limbs and then to the bedposts he’d had added to the frame.  
Stiles’ hands were stretched out in front of him and a thick rope was attached to the handcuffs a moment later, wrapped snug around the headboard. Peter placed pecks on his shoulders as he made sure his ankles were properly tied to each of the corresponding posts.  
The result was Stiles spread wide, his gorgeous ass in full view. Unable to resist, Peter bent and slid his tongue in the cleft.   
"Fuck!" Stiles shot up, the tension on the ties making the wood squeak.   
  
“Are you comfortable?” Peter chuckled, caressing his thighs.  
“Yeah,” Stiles answered, his cock throbbing. He really wanted to add "just fucking let me come already." 

He had always faced Peter when they did this, but he didn’t mind the change in perspective. It meant there was no need for a blindfold (another of Peter’s favorite accessories). Since Peter had already stripped his lower clothes off, all that was left was his t-shirt. Stiles shivered, Peter’s hands brushing against him and ripping it off his body.  
(Peter wasn’t always very good about remembering how encumbering cuffs and ties could be- he’d replaced a lot of clothing over the past few weeks). He didn’t have much patience for removing them the right way, especially once he’d already gotten Stiles tied down. In the morning there was often a sea of fabric all across the floor, the tattered remains of whatever Stiles had been wearing discarded without a second thought.  
  
The hungry, feral expression Peter wore whenever his eyes roamed over Stiles’ naked form was back. Especially on display like this for him, it was exhilarating.  
Peter climbed onto the bed slowly, hovering over him and leaning close against his taut back. He lifted Stiles a few inches and ran his long fingers into his silky hair.   
Peter growled a question into his ear, asking him to whom he belonged. Stiles replied with a breathless ‘You’. Peter’s cock was a hot brand against his ass and he pulled on the cuffs to get near, the metal digging into his skin. “Peter, please… I want you.”  
  
The grip on Stiles’ hair allowed Peter to yank his head back.  
Peter continued. “That’s right, sweetheart. You belong to me and I'm all yours. You’re so good for me. Are you going to be good for me tonight, too?”  
Stiles’ body was quivering at the tone of Peter’s voice- the same burnished one that had bid him on his knees the first night they’d gotten together.  
  
“What do you want, Stiles? Tell me, baby.” It took Stiles a second to comprehend just what Peter was asking through the haze of arousal that swallowed him up. The way he’d twisted into his locks had him in pieces. “I… I…” He stuttered before clarity blew the fog from his desperate mind. “I want your knot, Peter. I want to be your mate.”   
  
It was happening! He couldn't believe it. They’d discussed it, but Peter had seemed apprehensive. Something must have changed for Peter to suggest it.   
Stiles wasn't afraid of what it meant. He knew Peter would be gentle despite the roughness in his voice. Shivers of delight ran through them as their tongues merged in a sweet tangle.  
  
Stiles' eyes were smoldering when they broke. He couldn’t imagine anything better than being taken this way by the man he loved. (Yes, Stiles loved him. And he was sure Peter felt the same, especially since this wasn’t something that was just done on a whim).  
  
“I’m so happy we're doing this, baby.” Peter let go of his fear, his thirsty lips seizing Stiles' in a deep emotional commitment that he felt all the way to his toes.  
“I love you, Stiles,” he whispered to him, mouth slick as he pressed their foreheads together. The position didn't allow Stiles much movement, otherwise he would have fallen on him and never let go.  
“I love you, too, Peter. So much.”  
_  
  
This time spit wouldn’t be enough. The first time knotting could be painful and part of the reason Peter wanted to immobilize Stiles was also to make sure he didn’t panic and try to detach before it was time.  
He reached for the lube in the drawer that Stiles couldn’t see, and a second later Stiles hissed at the sudden coldness of it being drawn across his opening. They’d never used it before. Stiles liked it rough, a little dry… but he could guess by the way Peter applied it generously that he would thank him later for doing so.  
  
Stiles stiffened at the unexpected sensation as Peter’s fingers massaged it into him. “You need to be as relaxed as possible, Stiles. I need to get my fist inside without it hurting, understand? That’s about the size of the knot initially.”  
“Initially?!…” Stiles squealed, looking back at him with terror-stricken eyes.   
  
“Stiles,” his voice was an even register, low and comforting. “I promise, if it hurts, I’ll stop before it’s too late.”  
Nodding, Stiles let his lungs fill and he blew the air out through his mouth. This went on as the intrusion grew in size. Eventually, Peter’s gloved hand could slide into him with ease and Stiles was no longer biting his lip raw, only whimpering. “Christ… Peter, it hurts a bit.”

Peter stopped, but he didn’t extract his hand. He twisted it at the wrist, working the muscle in and out in a gentle sweep until Stiles nodded for him to continue. Alternating unfurled fingers with a tight fist, he loosened Stiles, massaging his prostate whenever he could to give him something to look forward to.   
  
“It… it feels good now.” Stiles shuddered at every lunge and his cock was leaking pre-cum all over the bedsheet. Peter was so careful with his movements it didn’t sting any longer. Now Stiles wanted him to keep going and he expressed it with unabashed abandon, screaming out as Peter crooked his fingers inside him. “Peter, please fuck me now, knot me!”  
“Yes baby… it’s coming. Be good for me a while longer.”

The sudden emptiness was disappointing and Stiles bent himself back in instinct, wanting Peter inside of him more than anything. Peter lined up against his opening, gripping his slim hips from behind. Stiles tried not to tense when his cock slid in. “Oh shit, yeah!”  
So far, nothing out of the ordinary. But this was only Peter's dick- he’d never been knotted before.  
“So good, baby… that’s it, Stiles. Breathe.”

Agonizingly slow, Peter rocked back and forth, not enough to move along his entire length, but enough that the changes in pressure sent waves of pleasure through them both. It took a second for him to figure out a rhythm, (the excitement wasn’t lost on Peter, either), but once he could glide without hitching, Stiles shuddered beneath and begged him not to stop.  
"More, Peter. Please."  
Peter tunneled into him as he had many times before, extracting himself almost all the way before slamming back in. He loved to bury himself inside his heat, listening to the way Stiles cursed with each impact. Peter had a hard time controlling his movements, though, as Stiles seemed to be particularly tight. Perhaps it was nerves, but every time he thrust into him it was like a vise being squeezed on his girth.

“Stiles!” He was on the verge of losing measure.  
Stiles mewled, begging Peter for release as his cock rammed into him faster and faster. Peter could barely think straight as he fucked him with a maddening intensity. Heat flashed through him, Peter adjusting his hips so that every time he disappeared into Stiles, his swollen prostate would get the brunt of it. He ground into him, the wetness coating his length and dripping down the back of Stiles' thighs.   
The slick sound of Peter driving in deep started the first hint of orgasm coiling inside him. It sent Stiles into a mindless state of complete ecstasy and he cried out a strangled “Please.”  
Stiles’ pleasure was Peter's pleasure, the harder he fucked him and made him scream, the more Peter was rewarded. He reached his hand around and gripped Stiles’ dripping sex. He didn’t bother teasing him this time. He stroked him off with an ironclad grasp and Stiles’ moans turned into high-pitched keens.  
  
“Baby, it’s happening. Are you ready? Ready to cum together?” Peter asked him. Neither could hold back any longer. He rubbed Stiles’ swollen head with one hand and pulled his ass cheeks back onto his cock with the other.  
“Fuck yes!” Stiles cried out his answer. He screamed Peter’s name hoarsely and all the sensations of their lovemaking exploded into one hit of blinding release.  
Stiles came, his cock spilling into Peter’s hand and then again, dribbling down onto the sheet. His cum spurt _everywhere_.  
  
The strong scent of musk and sperm so heavy in the air provoked Peter’s half-turn. He cursed from behind his fangs and buried himself into Stiles one last time. His balls slammed against Stiles’ ass, and a hot stream unloaded into him as the bright mauve knot grew inside him, stretching Stiles’ insides.  
“Oh shit!” Stiles exclaimed through gritted teeth, having never experienced such a thing before. The weird mix of bliss and pain ripped through him. "Fuuuuck!"  
  
“STILES!” Peter howled as his gigantic knot expanded to full size. It was pushing and moving the tissues, sealing his come. “It feels so good. I... I love you, Stiles.”  
  
Head lowered, his mouth claimed him just like his sex did, biting in the mate mark. Stiles was one entire scorch- his insides, his neck, his skin.  
The men trembled against each other as Peter held him still. “So good for me, Stiles. Taking it all… taking my knot. Becoming mine. Don’t move, baby. Don’t move. It’s not time yet.”  
  
Stiles moaned and writhed as the pain passed into something delightfully fulfilling. The pressure had expanded, he felt like he'd been blown up with a warm balloon, tingling and throbbing inside him. The come that had spilled sloshed against his walls. A couple final spurts emptied from Peter’s balls and then it was over.

Peter was Stiles' canopy, shucking with him like in prayer, murmuring compliments and sweet nothings until the knot had deflated enough to not rip Stiles apart.  
"It can come out, Stiles. I'm pulling out," he warned him. They both winced as he did so, the cinch narrow over the bulbous part.  
  
“Jesus, Peter… that was incredible,” Stiles panted. They were both exhausted and Stiles’ body fought the soreness spreading. It was a comforting ache though, just like the hot seed still kept warm within his cavity.  
  
“Did it hurt? I didn’t mean for it to be painful but my knot gets really big,” Peter explained as he hurried to untie him. “It’s kind of all proportional to the dick.”  
“Yeah yeah, my monster-cocked Alpha,” Stiles winked, leaning in for a kiss and once his hands were free, they wrapped around Peter's nape.  
“Jokes aside, it did hurt at first, but then I relaxed. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever perceived physically. I don’t think I could have felt so at one with you if we hadn’t done that. I… I’m glad it was you. I kind of always wanted it to be you. I was hoping we'd mate one day, Peter.”  
  
His voice cracked, but Stiles didn't care. He wanted Peter to understand that he had no regrets- he'd always dreamed of this happening. He was glad Peter had finally gifted him what he’d been craving- and they’d also declared their feelings for each other. Stiles couldn’t have asked for more.  
Peter had undone all of Stiles’ restraints before he fell into the bed beside him, arms engulfing his lover, not enough kisses between them to sate their thirst.  
Stiles murmured a thank you and Peter stroked his damp hair gently and admitted he’d only ever wanted it to be Stiles.  
“I knew, too, did you know? When you were younger and we met, even though we didn’t initially like each other… I knew you were the one for me. It would have been weird then, with the age difference and all. But I was certain we’d find each other again, Stiles. I’m so glad you had a stalker and that I was the one you kissed that night.”  
Peter burst into a belly laugh, and Stiles followed suit. “Yeah, I’ll have to thank Scott and Danny for taking me to that shitty club and ditching me.”  
“Yes, I suppose they were the catalysts.”  
Rolling back, Peter asked through a yawn, a hand on his forehead, “You mind if we sleep a bit? I’m exhausted.”  
“Not at all,” Stiles nuzzled into him, a splayed palm on his broad chest. They would have plenty of time to talk.  
“I could use a breather from all this excitement.”

When they awoke again several hours later, Peter pulling Stiles against his warmth, he whispered something into his ear.  
Returning a small smile to Stiles’ grin, Peter swooped down to kiss him. With a satisfied air, looking forward to the pampering Peter had just promised him, Stiles made for the kitchen to get them something to eat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> BDSM isn't really my thang but I'm trying to step out of my comfort zones.  
> Hope you’re all hanging in there during these crazy times. Remember- please be kind to one another! The world is harsh enough as it is.  
> Namaste!


	3. Ligatures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has a sadistic streak. Who knew?!

Stiles was tied up, naked and blindfolded. Judging by his hearing, which had improved significantly since Peter had robbed him of his sight over the past few weeks, he would say that his lover hadn’t been in the room in quite some time.  
“Just get some sleep, Stiles,” Peter had hummed before he’d left. “This is going to take a minute.”

Stiles could still feel the remnants of Peter’s lips against his own, laying claim to him hotly as he sealed his mouth with the promise that he would be back. How long it was going to take, though, was completely unknown to him, and now with only half of his senses, he had no way of telling just how much time had passed. It might have been an hour, but through the nerves and the impatience, (AND HIS ERECTION), it could as well have been five minutes, too. 

Stiles groaned. Over the months, he and Peter had become significantly more experimental, but Stiles never would have guessed that it would land him in such dire situations. At least, he would certainly call _this_ , being stuck naked with a rock hard erection and desperate for release, a dire situation in his book. Yet he trusted Peter. He knew he'd never hurt him. 

The worst part was that Peter hadn’t tied him up to the bed, because then he could have at least dropped down for a little while. Instead, he was supposed to hold himself up on his shaking knees, as his hands were tied to some sort of sex installation that Peter had attached to one of his expensive spare room ceilings.  
“It’ll come in handy one day,” is what he had said when Stiles had caught him fitting it, after which he had squeezed his ass, ridden him off his clothes, and fucked him into the deepest depths of the new mattress beneath.  
Just thinking about that now, _about getting fucked senseless_ , felt absolutely torturous. He needed it so badly that he was about to explode. He’d even tried to think about ways to come without being touched or talked to, but then he’d decided that that was a level of yearning even he himself didn’t feel comfortable succumbing to.  
 _That would have been utter desperation._

Another while passed, and Stiles still didn’t manage to feel any better. The sexy thoughts he’d used to try to make himself come had only made the ache worse, and now he was dangling from the ceiling with a pre-come spitting hard cock. _Oh_ , he thought, _Peter is going to have a blast when he comes back again_.

It was only when he felt a flow of cold air hitting his bare skin that he began feeling hopeful again. A draught, coming from outside, could of course only mean one thing, and so could the footsteps that he felt around him. His skin covered itself in goosebumps, his stomach churning violently.  
“Christ, Peter,” he muttered. His throat felt raw from all the desperate groaning he had partaken in. “How long has it been, for crying out loud?”

Peter didn't say anything, though. Instead, he continued to tease Stiles by moving throughout the room and entirely ignoring his existence.

“Peter!” He snapped. “I swear to God, I’m going to lose my mind. My fucking cock is leaking!”

“Just one second.” His lover sounded almost irked that Stiles even dared to make those types of noises, but Stiles knew better than to misinterpret it for actual annoyance. No, this tone of voice was just the one he used when he tried to assert his dominance. It sent a shockwave through his system, forcing him to bite back a moan through mauve lips.  
“I’ll be with you in a second my love."

Stiles tried to use his enhanced hearing to his advantage, but apart from a quiet rustle there wasn’t much that could indicate what was going on. All Stiles suddenly became aware of was the smell of sulfur, which filled the room right after he had heard a match being lit.  
“You’re not going to burn me with candle wax, are you?” Stiles wasn’t sure why he was saying it like that, seeing as he probably would have accepted it, but he guessed he was simply done waiting.  
“Jesus, Peter. If you are, please do it fast. I want to feel it. I want to feel something.”

“I might, Stiles, but I’ll keep it for later. Candle wax can be so cumbersome to clean up."

“How much later?”

“What did I tell you about being patient?" Peter snapped. "Be a good boy for me now, Stiles. I’d rather not tell you again, so please just follow orders.”

His swollen cock jumped upwards and he could swear that the wave of arousal that Peter’s words had caused had pushed a streak of pre-come out of his slit. He could almost imagine the pool of fluid on the tiles underneath him. (The mattress had been shifted to the corner earlier).

Peter laughed sinisterly, with a grit to his voice, and then he finally approached him. He smelled of power, love and sex. “You’re desperate, aren’t you, pet?”

Before he gave Stiles the chance to answer, Peter wrapped his hand around his swollen shaft. Stiles’ knees weakened in seconds, almost making him sink through them and putting the entire strain of his body weight on his bound wrists. “Yeah, I am. How long have you kept me waiting for Christ’s sake?”

Peter hummed. “Make a guess, baby.” The Alpha’s mouth buried itself in Stiles’ neck, where it nipped at the thick artery that pinched through his skin. Stiles could only moan.

“Over an hour, right? Must have been over an hour.”

Peter laughed a little and moved his unoccupied hand to Stiles’ nipple, which he pinched between his thumb and index finger until it was fully sensitive and erect. “Almost, baby.”  
It had been two, but who was counting?! 

“Where were you?” Stiles asked. His voice was strained and filled with unfulfilled pleasure. He had no idea how he was going to get through this if Peter didn't fuck him soon.

“I was preparing something for you,” he mused. “It _is_ our anniversary, after all.”

Stiles thought of the gift he’d gotten Peter, which was still in his bag at this point. He supposed he would have been fucked out of his mind by the time he would be able to give it to him. He bloody fucking hoped so, at least, because this was not something that he could bear for too much longer.

“What were you preparing? Making me desperate by leaving me alone for nearly an hour? I’m freezing, Peter. My fucking cock is--”

A hand around his plump erection shut him right up. Peter stroked him, his thumb caressing the head of his slick dick and coating itself in the pre-come that had already been leaking out. Stiles whined and thrust his hips into the touch. He had no control over it, though, merely proving just how desperate he was to be caressed. It had been much, much too long and now Stiles had been stripped down to the bare basics of his own humanity. He couldn’t contain himself any longer, acting on pure instinct. Peter seemed thoroughly amused.

“Desperate, are we?”

Stiles gritted his teeth, then yanked at the tethers. “Yes. Jesus fuck.”

“Well, I’ll put you out of your misery, then.”

At that, Peter removed the blindfold from his umber eyes. When they had fully adjusted to the sudden light around him, he looked down upon a table, on which a perfect candlelight dinner greeted him. It stood closely to them. Stiles’ stomach rumbled a little. For a slight second, the sensation of hunger overtook the one of sexual deprivation.

“Do you like it, baby?”  
When Stiles turned his head, he could see a smirk on Peter’s perfect handsome face. “I thought, why not mix romance with pleasure, hm?”

Peter gave his dribbling cock a few more strokes, having Stiles quiver at his feet. He then buried his face in Stiles’ neck and ran his tongue down towards his clavicle. He grabbed Stiles’ skin between his canine teeth and bit carefully, only taunting his nerve endings with a sharp, though pleasant little sting.  
“Hm,” Stiles groaned. “Yeah, fuck… Fuck, I like it.”

“Good,” Peter said, after which the motherfucking tease pulled away. “I hope you’re hungry, then.”

He grabbed a hold of one of the plates and scooped some ravioli out of the dish in the middle of the table. He sprinkled it with some parmesan and garnished it with some basil. He grabbed a hold of one of the forks and stood in front of him.

“Open up, baby,” he grinned. “I think you’ll like it.”

“What?” Stiles stammered. “You’re not even going to untie me for this?”

Peter shook his head. “No, that would be a shame. It took me quite some effort to get you in this position, and I’m not at all done playing with you. We haven't even started yet."

“This is ridiculous,” Stiles muttered under his breath. However, he knew that there was no going against Peter as, in the end, Stiles was always willing to give up all his control to him. He wanted to please Peter. Always. 

“Is making my life miserable your present for me or your present for yourself?”

Instead of answering, Peter pushed a piece of ravioli in his pert mouth, which Stiles then began chewing on. He shut his eyes, trying his best to appreciate the flavours. However, he didn’t feel in any position to compliment his lover on his cooking skills, when it wasn’t those he was flaunting in the first place. He was administering the control he possessed over Stiles, and he did it so deliciously that Stiles was starting to forget where he even was.

As Peter fed him another bite of his food, he put the plate back on the table and continued his stroking. It made Stiles temporarily stop chewing altogether, and muffled groaning his reply to the sensation instead. It had Peter chuckling wholeheartedly, and judging by the sound of it, he was chewing on something now too.  
“Delicious, Stiles,” he said. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re aching for my cock. You really want it, don’t you?”

“Yes!” Stiles blurted it out without thinking, the word escaping his mouth in a noise that resembled a pathetic whine. “Fucking, _please!_ ”

“Maybe soon, baby. Maybe after you’ve finished your plate like a _good boy_.”

Another lament escaped him, which, _yet again_ , had the alpha let go of his erection. He groaned even louder then and even started to kick his legs just to deal with the maddening frustration. How many more times was Peter going to give him something like this -- something like sweet, _sweet_ pleasure -- only to take it away from him?

However, he knew that he needed to listen to Peter to get what he wanted from him, and so he opened his mouth again to accept every little bite that Peter would feed him.

They finished the meal in silence. Stiles had tried to rush through it but after every other bite, Peter would make a deal out of staring into his eyes and making his heart flutter. _Agh_ , it was so annoying how the alpha was capable of doing that. One second he would be making him feel desperate to be fucked, while another he would be making him swoon more in love than he had ever been before; than he ever even knew he was capable of.

“How about dessert?” Peter asked. He had stepped away from Stiles and was now pushing the table backwards a little, so that they would have a bit more space to work with. “You’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth, haven’t you?”

“Peter, Goddamnit-- please!” Stiles begged. “I have no idea how I’m going to sit through another one of those dishes. I just want you. I don’t want a dessert. I just…”

Peter then pressed his long fingers against Stiles' plush lips, quieting him. “Believe me Stiles, you’re going to enjoy this. You’re going to get some of me; something you really enjoy _swallowing._ ”

When Peter stepped away, Stiles was about to lose his mind. It was only when he could see that Peter was merely getting a chair to sit on, his mind settled a little. At least it meant that Peter wasn’t going to leave him again. “Please…” He muttered, though by this point he had no clue what he was even begging for.

Peter placed the chair directly in front of him and then yanked at the chains, lowering him a little. It had him sinking through his knees, which sent his skin tingling. With his hands above his head like this, he felt horribly exposed, but he knew that only added to the thrill of it. After all, he knew what was going to happen now. He knew what his dessert was. Peter's bulge was the answer. 

“I know you like it thick and creamy, am I right?” Peter asked, while taking a seat on the chair he had placed there. “I’ve got just the thing for you, baby. I've saved it up."

With a few needy and forceful tugs, Peter got the zipper and button of his jeans undone. Stiles looked at it with lust glinting in his eyes, very desperately wanting to do what Peter was about to make him do.

Peter pulled the material down, causing his cock to jump up proudly. He was stiff and throbbing, leaking clear spiderwebs of pre... making Stiles wonder how he was able to have kept himself contained for so long. Stiles had been desperate and whining, while Peter had no trouble keeping himself under control.

How did he do that? How did it never get the better of him? Was the man a robot?!

“Want a taste, baby?” Peter asked, smirking down at him.

Stiles simply nodded. Didn’t even matter that sucking the large alpha off was going to do absolutely nothing to soothe the ache between his own legs. He just wanted it, desperately. The taste of his lover was the best dessert he could ever begin to imagine.

"I want to hear you say it."

“Yes.”

The distance between Stiles’ lips and Peter’s huge glistening cock was closed within seconds. Peter’s hand on the back of his ashen head guided him towards him, forcing him down instantly. Stiles’ mouth widened, unhinged... taking in the full width of Peter’s cock without issue. He closed his eyes as he tasted the briny pre-come, licking it up as though it was the most refreshing thing he had ever had. Next he sucked around him, his tongue swirling and licking up all there was to taste. By the sounds that erupted from the back of Peter’s throat, he determined that he was doing a good job at it.

Peter’s hand tightened and twisted in his hair, after which he began guiding him. Stiles appreciated this, as he had little balance to decide the pace himself. Besides, he had no issue being used like a doll like this, being made to feel like the only thing his mouth was good for was to please his rightful owner. _He'd decided being Peter's cum whore was something he was okay with._

He shivered upon the thought and tried to do an even better job, sucking hard. He moved along with Peter’s movements, and made sure to hollow his cheeks at exactly the right time to allow the other to get the absolute most out of it. His tongue pressed up against the thick vein on the other side of his shaft, caressing it to draw more moans from his lover’s throat. The noises were so good that it made his stomach flutter. Equally annoying, of course, was the way his own cock started to pulse again as well. Was this ever going to end?

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Peter groaned. “Such a good boy you are for me. So fucking hot, Stiles. So _good_.”

The words of praise only kept him going more and more. His suction desperately increased, creating more friction around the man’s swollen flesh. He moved against Peter’s grip then, too, just so he would be able to bob even faster. He used his arms for balance, making sure he held himself up correctly. It was the best he was able to do, and he was certain that Peter would be appreciative of it.

“Jesus Christ, Stiles,” he growled again. The tightening grip in his hair indicated that Peter was getting closer and closer to his climax, which was something Stiles so desperately needed. “I’m…”

 _Just do it,_ Stiles thought to himself. _Please_. _Just fucking come down my throat._

Peter pulled him down one last time and then roared. Barely a second later, Stiles’ mouth was filled to the brim with the sweet, creamy goodness that Peter had been referring to all this time. He groaned as he let it swirl around in his mouth. He swallowed it down when his mouth felt too full, finishing the whole thing off with a satisfied huff.

It was then that Peter finally let him pull back, shivering with satisfaction. He got up from the chair then and pulled Stiles up with him. When they stood across from one another again, he panted, chest heaving. 

“Jesus Christ,” he said again, as if his mind was stuck on appraisal alone. “Why do you just keep getting better and better at that?”

“Practice makes perfect,” Stiles hummed through bruised lips. “Passion for you, my love.”

“Desperation, too, I suspect,” Peter smirked again. “Maybe I should leave you deprived like this more often.”

He grabbed the chain and rattled it a little. “I knew this thing would come in handy one day.”

“Please, no,” Stiles huffed. “I can barely handle it as it is. Peter, oh my God. I’m going to fucking _explode_ if I don’t get to come soon.”

“Didn’t you say practice makes perfect? Is that no longer true, then?”

“Oh fuck off.” Stiles managed to still chuckle.

“Hey now.” Peter lowered himself to Stiles’ level, aligning his head with his lover's. “Watch your pretty mouth now, will you?”

Before Stiles could do or say anything to protest, Peter’s lips were already against his, kissing him with passion and care, and licking out all the traces of cum that he had left there. Stiles knew that the alpha liked getting a taste of himself, especially when his release had felt so FUCKING good. Stiles had made fun of him for this once or twice, but never to any avail. It was impossible to embarrass Peter: he felt confident at all times.

As he kissed him, he slowly began to unbind Stiles’ wrists. Before they could fall beside his frame, however, Peter grabbed a firm hold of them himself. He brought them to his own neck, where Stiles --instinctively -- wrapped them around. He pressed closer, loving the sensations of it. It felt romantic, in a way, though it also felt impossible to deal with this kind of softness when all he wanted was to feel a hard, hot Alpha cock inside of him.

One of his arms moved down Peter’s chest, back towards his own softening dick. He began to palm it in his hand again, making sure that it would stiffen. It was a good thing that he had a whole lot of stamina, because he needed it fast.  
“Fuck me, Peter,” Stiles uttered against Peter’s lips. “Please.”

It was then that Stiles could feel two firm hands on his ass. They grabbed a hold of him, after which he could feel his whole body leaving the floor he stood upon. His long legs wrapped around Peter’s waist as he was being carried off to wherever the bed stood.

 _Fucking finally,_ Stiles thought to himself. _I thought this was never going to happen!_

His breath hitched when he was thrown onto the bed, the very brief moments of being in freefall nearly feeling like whole centuries. His heart pounded like a war drum and he stopped knowing how to deal with himself, until Peter was suddenly on top of him and pinning him down with his strong hands on his wrists.

“This better, baby?” Peter grunted, while grinding his hips into Stiles’. “Does this feel any better at all?”

Stiles’ groaned, his eyes shooting wide open. “Y-yes,” he stuttered. “Oh God, take me. Just like this. I beg you.”

Peter moved their hands together and held them with just one of his own. His other hand shifted between his legs, where he started to play with the ring of muscle around Stiles’ entrance. Stiles could feel it throbbing madly, aching like crazy. Peter laughed a little, undoubtedly the look in his desperate lover's voice a calling.  
“God, you’re so needy for me.” As he pushed a finger inside, he pressed a soft peck against Stiles’ lips. “I thought that after all this time your neediness would decline a little, but I can tell you that you haven’t disappointed. Good boy.”

“Ah…” Stiles cried. “That’s… That’s more because of you. Why do you have to be so goddamn inventive all the time?” And hot. So fucking hot. 

Peter added another finger, after which he began to stretch Stiles open. Stiles would have preferred to move on to being impaled right away, but Peter’s cock was big. He needed some stretching if he wanted to be able to sit for the next few days to come. Peter had held off on fucking him for a few days before and now he knew why.

“Was that a complaint, Stiles?” Peter smirked. “I didn’t think you mind being fucked in a new way every time. Or have I not been satisfying you?!”

“You have, Fuck, Yes! I do, I do, it’s just…” Stiles couldn’t finish that sentence as he was simply moaning too loudly. Peter was curling his fingers inside of him, pressing straight into his prostate. “Fuck!"

“It’s just that you want my cock, don’t you? Is that it? You want my big fat Alpha cock?!" 

Stiles hummed with agreement. He was dizzy with need. _“Please._ ”

“I think I’ll be kind to you now,” Peter grinned. “I think I’ll give you what you want.”

He pulled his fingers out in one go, leaving Stiles throbbing and empty, splayed on the mattress like a sex doll. Stiles could feel that he was already missing the touch, but he didn’t have to wait for too much longer, as Peter pulled his legs apart. In seconds he positioned himself and his massive alpha dick against Stiles. He shivered violently when he could feel the pre-come slick head against his sensitive entrance. Stiles lamented with unhandleable pleasure.

“Oh Stiles,” Peter continued. “You’re so goddamn cute when you’re whiny like this.”

Stiles was about to cuss at him and tell him, once again, to fuck off, but he was rendered speechless just a second after.

Peter had fucked himself inside of him in one go, gaping Stiles’ body to accommodate him. He moaned and thrashed as his heart pounded rapidly. Stiles was barely breathing, the bliss of being ripped apart suddenly overwhelming him. Stiles had been waiting for fucking hours for this exact moment, but now it felt like it was suddenly all a bit too much. How that was possible at all, Stiles did not know, but, then again, Peter never failed to surprise him.

“Oh my God,” he uttered, while his vision blurred with pleasure-induced tears.

“You’re so fucking tight again,” Peter said. He growled, though he wasn’t inching forward just yet. It was more than clear that this whole thing was going to be phenomenal, mind-blowing even. “Can I move, baby?”

“Yes,” Stiles whined. “Fucking. Yes. _Please.”_

“Do you _want_ me to move?”

The teasing was driving him fucking insane, causing him to scream out his response: “God-fucking… Peter, for fucking crying out… _AH!_ ”

Every hint of subtlety and carefulness was suddenly gone. In one go, Peter had bottomed out and fucked back in. Stiles could feel him against his walls, creating a painful sort of friction that he never wanted to miss out on again. Fuck. _God-fucking-shit!_

Peter didn’t build up his rhythm, but instead simply started pounding into him as though he was a raging storm from the very beginning. It was only then that it became clear that Peter was perhaps just as needy as Stiles had been. It was just that he had been a little bit better at hiding it than Stiles was, (also because Stiles had been tied up and deprived of half his senses for almost two hours). That was not quite a comfortable way to spend an evening, but… It was starting to feel like it was entirely worth it now.

The way Peter screamed his name sounded delicious. It blended in perfectly with the way the alpha’s cock slapped back against Stiles’ skin, which, in turn, was perfect harmony with the way Stiles was moaning and groaning himself. By this point, the whole room was filled with noises of undeniable bliss. Even though Peter’s place -- _their place_ \-- was huge, Stiles would not be surprised if the neighbors would be able to hear some of it.

“Baby, you feel so fucking good,” Peter praised, after which he tunneled deeply into him. “So fucking _fucking_ good.”

Stiles could feel every inch of Peter’s massive cock as it impaled him, making him forget everything else that had happened. He clenched his muscles, his walls hugging the alpha’s erection, but he wasn’t doing it voluntarily. Everything that was happening now was happening outside of his control. He couldn’t move his arms, as Peter still held them where he wanted them, and his body responded all by itself. The noises he let out just escaped, and every thought that jumped up into his mind simply just happened because of what Peter was doing to him. It was incredible. The force, the strength, the immaculate speed… It was all beyond human; better than any full human would be able to fuck him.

“Ah, and you look so fucking gorgeous. I can’t wait to deprive you again, Stiles. I can’t wait to withhold all this from you, all over again.”  
Peter’s hand grabbed a hold of Stiles’ erection, which he pumped a few times before his hand fell still again.  
“I can’t wait to have you whine and beg for me again.” Another few tugs. “Didn’t it feel good, baby? Didn’t you love it?”

“I love… I love _this_ ,” Stiles managed to whimper. “I love this. Ah. Give me everything, Peter. Give me all you have. Fucking… Fuck it into me. Your sperm. Keep going, please, oh _God_. Please…”

Although Peter did not continue, he did re-angle himself. When he pummeled back, Stiles could barely understand what was happening to him. Everything turned to confetti, satisfaction coursing through him like liquid fire and starting from the very pit of his stomach, it coiled upwards. The pleasure felt different to the one that began from the sensitive flesh of his turgid cock, which made the entire thing even more unbelievable. It felt like being massaged while being beaten, which for someone with a beginning interest in masochism, was about the best thing he could be subjected to.

He felt the heat within him rising, overflowing his senses. He whined and begged, tears streaming down the sides of his gorgeous face, but of course they weren’t bad tears. They were laments of ecstasy.  
“So beautiful, Stiles,” Peter muttered again. “So fucking gorgeous.”

“Kiss me,” he then demanded. “God, oh shit. I am so close. Please… Please kiss me, Peter.”

Through his blurred vision he could not see it happening, but he felt it in an instant. Peter’s lips were claiming his own, kissing aggressively and needily as the thrusting persisted. Stiles moaned, after which all of his muscles involuntarily clenched together. It drew delicious grunts from Peter’s throat, echoing through the room and creating an entirely different type of symphony. He loved it. He fucking…

“Come for me, baby,” Peter muttered. “Let me feel it, my love.”

And those words, of course, were enough for it all to simply start happening.

He came, streaks of cum shooting from his desperate, barely touched cock. It felt like heaven, unlike anything he had ever felt before. Of course Peter had made him come plenty of times before, but this whole thing was on another level. This made him forget his name, his entire body tight as a bow, and he was pretty sure he stopped breathing for a moment, the room spinning around him in a dizzying frenzy.

 _What the fuck was happening?! What the_ fuck _was happening?!_

It was only when he felt the alpha coming undone inside of him, shooting his load inside him hot, hard, and violently, filling his cavity up with a massive amount of release. Peter howled and Stiles whimpered. How could he help it, though, when Peter was riding out his orgasm so well; so perfectly? Fucking his come into him and out again, into him and out again!  
How would he ever be strong enough to handle it?  
Meeting Peter by chance that night at the bar had been the best fucking thing that had ever happened to him. JESUS FUCK! 

“Baby,” Peter muttered as he collapsed on top of him. “How do you always manage to be so damn good? You're so fucking sexy I can't...”

Stiles was unable to speak until the alpha pulled out of him, creamy streaks of cum starting to pour down onto the sheets. He didn’t even know how much of it was still inside of him, but it felt like even more than usual. He'd been saving it up all right. That was not just an illusion.

How could something so good, something _so, so_ potent, be his?! 

“Your fault,” Stiles muttered. “As always. Your fault. You fucking beautiful man.”

“I’m sure that isn’t quite true, baby. You were always sexy, even without me.”

“I don’t think so, Peter,” Stiles muttered, hand straining. He tugged at the grip around his wrists. When Peter let go of him, he wrapped his arms tightly around his lover immediately and pressed him close.  
He never wanted to be let go of again. EVER.  
“I think you complete me, Peter. You have made me better than I ever was.”

Peter hummed and pressed his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck, pressing soft kisses against his velvet skin. “I think I could say the same about you, baby,” he muttered. “I wouldn’t be half the man I am if it wasn’t for you.”

Stiles closed his whiskey eyes to the light and allowed the butterflies to settle within his tummy. He hummed with satisfaction, as he could still feel the warm cum leaking out of him.  
“I love you, Peter.”

The grunt that escaped the Alpha’s pert lips was nothing but an expression of happiness. Stiles had learnt to tell those apart over time. He was just feeling too much; more than he was capable of expressing in words.  
“I love you too, Stiles,” he finally murmured into his neck, the love tightening his vocal chords. “So, so, _so_ much. You'll never be able to understand.”

That is when Peter decided he was going to show him. He wondered how Stiles would react to a marriage proposal? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't think I'd write a third... life has been unkind but I guess I needed to unwind.  
> Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr prompt.
> 
> This might have one more chapter but for the moment I'm leaving it here. Hope you're doing well.


End file.
